


buttered by light, tethered by love

by ficfucker



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Not Beta Read, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26398171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: darry and wayne and a quiet moment at the end of the day
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	buttered by light, tethered by love

**Author's Note:**

> set a timer for thirty minutes, wrote this up, and since ive been on a dry spell, decided this was better than nothing *big shrug*

Darry's not ashamed about much. He'll draw on the walls and stick things in his mouth unprompted and dance a fool out of shoes when he's drunk, but like all else, the line gets drawn somewhere. 

Maybe shame isn't the right word. 

Skittish like a wild colt, rather. 

Wayne watches his sweetie from the corner of his eye. He's got jitter legs something bad, thumping his work boots into the grass with a steady beat. Wayne passes him the bottle of Gus N Bru they've been sharing and says, "Get at 'er if yer gonna." 

Darry accepts the alcohol, tips his head to the side all curious-like. 

"Dressing down," Wayne clarifies. 

The sun is setting on the horizon, casting long, wavering stretches of orange and gold over the fields. Catching on each individual blade of grass like god is buttering the land. Best time of day, this time of year, to take your shirt off after hoofing it hard choring in a monkey suit. 

Darry downs a healthy gulp of Bru. "What makes you so sure I want to strip?" he asks, but Darry's never been one to bluff and his voice betrays him. 

"Ever since you got the chop, you been looking for every opportunity to play skins." 

That's only partly true. 

There was the healing process. Blood drains and serum crusted over and the yellowing bruises still purple in the center. Laid up in bed. No greater torture for a man who makes his life out of farm labor. 

Thing about getting better, body always acts dramatic. Makes you look like a Frankenstein creature before you actually see any of the results. 

To say the least, Darry was all whipped up nervous when he took the bandages off and his chest was flat, but looking like it'd gotten stuck in the blades of the harvester. 

When the swelling subsided and Darry's nipples healed pink, his scars two strips of glossy patching, he wanted to run shirtless, but kept himself leashed. Being in a small town like Letterkenny, everyone knows Darry, knows his entire fucking life story, but there was an innate fear. Couldn't shake it, even with the gentle coaxing of Wayne. 

Couple months in now, and Darry still avoids de-robing unless it's just him and Wayne. Dan's gotten a peeksee and naturally Katy has, too, but Darry's strangely private. 

The urge to take his shirt off, though, Wayne can feel vibrating right through Darry like it's a tangible thing. Wants to make the leap, but hits the brakes right when he nears the edge. 

"Spose now's as good a time as any other…" Darry licks his bottom lip. 

"Well, pitter patter, Super Chief. Bugs will be comin' out before you make up your mind." 

Darry takes another gulp which Wayne reads as a nonverbal "Fuck it," and hands the bottle back to Wayne then yanks his white shirt off, grabbing the back collar and forcing it over. He tosses it aside and flops down in the grass. 

Wayne looks down at him, leaned against a marshmallow bale. He puts the bottle safely aside and sprawls out beside his sweetie. 

"Feels good," Darry says softly. 

Wayne hums. He's had the luxury of being allowed to go shirtless his entire life, though he rarely utilizes it. He's not looking to show off, not even really to Darry, and working shirtless leads to sunburns of the worst kind. 

He likes looking at Darry, though. Likes it a lot. 

Wayne draws a hand over to Darry, lays it smooth over his chest. His pinky finger catches Darry's nipple and the hick shivers, giggles. He reciprocates, worms his hand between the buttons of Wayne's flannel. 

"Cmon now, yer gonna stretch the fabric." 

"So? You got tons of shirts." 

Wayne runs his pinky along the line of Darry's scar tissue, relishes the waxy feeling of the razor-thin ridge. "Not the point. Shouldn't go ruining something just cuz you got excess. Gonna end up a Tragedy of the Commons." 

"Never met a man so dramatic," Darry murmurs. 

Wayne unbuttons enough of his shirt to accommodate Darry's intrusion. Open about halfway down, his stomach still covered, hem still tucked into his jeans. 

The sun is starting to truly wink out of sight, darkness creeping over the both of them, and that means coyotes will be coming out soon, but Wayne's enjoying the moment. Darry seems to be, too. Without worry, freed. 

Milky stomach exposed, Wayne can't miss the opportunity. He spider-walks his fingers south and gives Darry a good tickle. Darry writhes and wriggles and protests, spluttering with laughter. He swats at Wayne, curls his fingers around his wrist. His pushing away turns to pulling closer until they're lovebirded together. 

Wayne kisses the side of Darry's head. Darry's still holding onto his wrist, drawing abstract patterns into Wayne's skin with his thumb. Simple touch like that, Wayne feels a flutter ripple through his stomach. Excited and proud and aroused by Darry. Joyous just to be with him. 

"Ought to head in soon." 

Darry "mm"s. "Stars is almost out, though. Wanna get a look." 

Wayne whispers, "Super fuckin' soft, bud," but nothing on Earth could get him to go before he's sure Darry's ready to go, too.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3
> 
> find me on tmblr @ficfucker


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